


Summer of 1974

by 221authoronbakerst



Series: The Marauders at Hogwarts [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 22:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14882331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221authoronbakerst/pseuds/221authoronbakerst





	1. Sirius

It was a pivotal summer, the summer of 1974 for the whole of the, now, fourth-year Gryffindors. For the girls, it was full of firsts; a first kiss, a first loss, a first fight, a meeting. For the boys, however, this summer held nothing special. There were no real firsts for them, but still, lessons were learned.

Sirius Black was greeted on the platform, as usual, by his house-elf, Kreacher. Kreacher apparated him and his brother back to Grimmauld Place. Regulus went dutifully off to the drawing room to be welcomed home by his parents and any guest they might have. As usual, Sirius went to his bedroom, careful not to be seen. He stripped himself of his clothes as Kreacher drew a bath for him. He entered the steam-filled bathroom and tried not to breath in too deeply or else he'd choke on the foul smell they used for an antibacterial soap. Sirius had a sickening instinct that it was ammonia.

Before he even touched the water his eyes stung and his throat burned. His skin instantly flared up in response to the hot temperature. He tried to show no signs of pain as Kreacher scrubbed his skin with a bleached rag, knowing that if he did it would only change Kreacher's rant from his disappointing and embarrassing his parents with this year's escapades to a rant about his deserving what he got for having 'filthy mudblood' friends. By the time Kreacher was done scrubbing his skin raw, Sirius had open sores along his legs and backside. He stepped out so Kreacher could drain the water.

Finally allowed to be alone Sirius stepped into the cooling relief that was his shower. The water pelted and soothed his tense and throbbing muscles. His burning sores began to heal as the chemical was rinsed off of him. Knowing that if he waited too long Kreacher would come for him, he wrapped himself in a towel.

Kreacher was waiting for him. His dress robes were already prepared and laid out for him on his bed. Kreacher stood beside a wooden chair, dittany clutched in one hand and hair clippers in another. Sirius sighed, heavily but made no other signs of protest, knowing that if he did his mother would be called. He dropped the towel on the floor and grasped the back of the chair to allow Kreacher to drop the dittany onto his wounds. He braced himself for what was to come. The clear liquid splashed onto him, spreading a tingling cooling sensation through one of the sores then the burning returned only for it to subside to a light sting and finally it became numb then Kreacher moved to the next. His muscles tensed again and he clenched his jaw, trying to keep his moans silent. When Kreacher announced he was finished Sirius gasped, not realising he had been holding his breath.

"Sit in the chair Master Sirius, and remember if you wiggle too much Kreacher might accidentally cut off your ear," Kreacher croaked and laughed though Sirius swore he could hear a hopeful note in the house elf's voice. Sirius watched as Kreacher reached out with boney twitchy fingers for the hair clippers. He switched it on and the vibrations seemed to shake the house elf's entire skinny body, though his hand was steady. He used an empty crate to reach his master's head. Sirius watched as the clippers grew slowly nearer but shut his eyes tightly before it reached his scalp, not wanting to watch as his hair fell from his head. He gripped the edge of his chair as the vibrations came closer to his left ear anticipating the sting of the razor's blades as Kreacher continued his earlier rant over the clippers hum. Sirius thought bitterly of not having to hear the elf's voice again if he did cut his ears off. Just one unanticipated twitch would do it. But, alas, the elf finished his task before Sirius really decided to do it. Sirius sat awkwardly still as he allowed Kreacher to brush bits of hair from his naked skin. Sirius lurched to his feet as Kreacher reached for the broom and rushed to his dress robes.

This is where things ended. This is where he was allowed to go and do whatever he wanted as long as he stayed out of his parent's way. Relief radiated through him. He shamed himself for it. He should be used to this by now. He should be stronger and not let it bother him. It didn't matter, it was over now and he just needed to get out and away from that damned elf.

"Mistress would like to see you in the office," Kreacher croaked. Sirius froze, his hand clutching the door handle, his throat tightened and chest compressed. 'The office' was a room the Black children thoroughly tried to avoid. It was a room, in the words of his parents, 'for contemplation, punishment, and redemption.' It was the office that led to his 'cleansing' in first year when he announced he met a boy named James Potter and his frequent haircuts after he disappeared to the same boy's house just last Christmas. He should have expected it with Kreacher muttering about shame and embarrassment. You do not embarrass the Blacks.

"I think I'll just pop down to the kitchen for a light snack before I go," Sirius said, lightly. He opened the door and attempted to flee without hearing Kreacher's protest.

"Kreacher has been ordered to see that Master Sirius goes to the office directly after his cleansing, no exceptions," Kreacher said, grasping Sirius by the end of his robes. He allowed Kreacher, with a small fist pressed to his lower back, to lead him to the office.

"Will you bring me something?" Sirius asked desperately before Kreacher could shut the door. He already felt his hunger gnawing at him.

"No," the elf spat and disapparated quickly before Sirius could order him to. Sirius shut the door and turned to face the office.

It was around room decorated entirely with wood. There was no window and no fireplace. There was one high-backed chair that sat behind the large desk with an oil lamp on top of it, offering the only source of light. The punished were to never touch the chair so, every time Sirius was sent to the office, he would kneel on the floor and his eyes would shift uncomfortably in search for something to latch onto in this plain room. He eyed the only bit of decoration in the place. It was a picture of a wizard, a very old wizard that Sirius always assumed to be Merlin until he had to look at it again. While he remembered the painting, he always seemed to forget that it was in there. When his eyes eventually found it, he was jolted with surprise. He would scan the painting, taking in the details and then think to himself Merlin could never look so cruel.

Sirius was always amazed that his parents would have such a painting. It seemed to be half muggle, because the wizard, whoever he was, never moved. He never blinked, his chest never gave any signs of respiration. He was still as stone. Only the leaves on the bushes behind him rustled in the wind and occasionally a shadow would flick between the trees. Perhaps the wizard wasn't enchanted to move but instead was charmed to make the viewer be overcome by immense guilt because that is what happened whenever Sirius would meet the cold, dark eyes of the wizard in the portrait. Despite his discomfort, he could not move, he could scarcely blink lest he break eye contact with the wizard. Then the guilt would sneak it's way through him, starting in the pit of his stomach like an unpleasant custard. Then his memories would flood his mind and suddenly he was repulsed by himself. Thinking of everything he's done in the past three years made him physically ill.

Sirius did not know how long he was left in the office nor how long he had been staring at the wizard, but when his mother finally entered, she carried a lantern and the hall was very dark behind her. Sirius trembled with hunger. His knees ached and felt like they were bleeding. His throat stung and his mouth was dry like he had vomited repeatedly. His cheeks were wet and his eyes sore. And though he was finally able to look away from the wizard on the wall his guilt and repulsion still pulsed through him.

"I'm sorry mother," a weak, pitiful, hoarse voice erupted from Sirius's mouth. It surprised him.

"If you were sorry you wouldn't have done it," she replied, her voice was unreadable. His mother had yet to face him so he kept his eyes on her back, measuring her actions. She was sure to strike, the trouble was knowing when. Sirius cleared his throat before talking, taking care to keep his voice steady.

"I wasn't thinking. I just-"

"You never think Sirius, that's your problem." His mother whipped around to face him at last. Her narrow eyes searched his face. "You surround yourselves with people who are beneath you in every way, and look at what happens." Sirius flinched and recoiled. "You don't see Regulus acting like this. I'm just glad he hasn't followed in your footsteps."

Sirius was at a loss for words. So, he stayed silent, still on his knees in front of his mother surveying him.

"Your father thinks we should take you out of school." His mother paused, watching him as varying expressions crossed his face. He carved his face into a stony mask. The guilt was still in him but it was slowly being overcome by a desperate desire to remain at Hogwarts, with his friends, where he had complete control over his life. "I think," she continued, mistaking his mask for acceptance, "that there might still be hope for you. So you will remain, but only if you join the Slug Club with your brother."

"So, is that to be my punishment?" asked Sirius finally felt the familiar flame of anger burst through him. The corners of his mother's mouth twitched in amusement succeeding in angering him more.

"No, your father requested I leave that to him. You'll wait for him in your bedroom after you go to the kitchen for something to eat," she answered, looking at the blank wall behind them. Sirius caught a spark in her eyes that sent chills through him and had him questioning what his father was intending to do. "Do you understand what is expected of you?"

"I'll join the Slug Club with my brother," Sirius recited, his mind wandering elsewhere.

"And the mudbloods?"

"I will keep them in their proper place." He felt his mouth form the words but the words had no meaning and only had the effect of bringing a vile taste to his mouth. Had he learned to survive the office?

"I don't want to hear any more about them. Not even Potter. Understood?" Sirius nodded. This was something easily done. "Go to the kitchen and eat quickly. I don't want your father to have to wait for you." Sirius stood, his knees wobbled with the effort, and he walked out of the office without glancing back at his mother.

It was evening now and the whole house seemed to be asleep. He skipped down the stairs careful not to make too much noise and entered the kitchen. A place was set on the table baring only bread and water. He didn't feel very hungry anymore, anyway. Despite his mother's warning, he ate slowly, taking his time to prepare himself for what was to come. Was there a potion that could help him subside the pain? What was it that Remus took before the full moon? Something with Meadowsweet? That was no use. He doubted his parents would have Meadowsweet and it certainly wasn't in his potions set. He gulped down the water, already having wasted enough time picking at the breadcrumbs on his plate.

"No point in delaying the inevitable, Black," he said to himself, more to give himself courage than anything else. He made his way back up the stairs and to his bedroom. He shut his door with a light click and sat on his bed, staring at the door handle, waiting for his father's arrival.


	2. Remus

Hope Lupin was Remus's mother. She was an understanding and kind-hearted woman, who was currently working as a checkout operator in the local supermarket. She was also a muggle. Her husband Lyall Lupin was a very skilled wizard who worked freelance in beast control in local areas. It was because of this the Lupins felt the need to keep their son's unfortunate condition a secret. So they kept moving. Whenever a neighbour got suspicious about a strange noise in the night or they noticed Remus's frequent illnesses, the moving boxes would come and they would relocate or 'start a new adventure' as they often told their son. Moving, as adventurous as it may sound, was not without its disadvantages. It lost Hope's ability to have a stable career despite her degree and it was rather expensive. So they lived in a shabby neighbourhood called Lewisham. But they have been able to stay in this house for almost four years. It was comfortable. Remus had a specific place to turn whenever he came home from school - that wasn't his bedroom. They were happy, as they should be. And the first few days of the holiday were quiet.

Remus Lupin was bombarded with owls from James Potter, not even a week from when the holidays began. The first letter was pleasant though dramatic as James usually was.

Hello Moonchild

i am writing to demand that you come and visit me over the holidays. especially since both of our other friends are currently grounded for last year's mischief. what can i say? they live in the past. but us, we prefer to live in the present.

PLEASE SAVE ME FROM THESE DREADFULLY BORING OLD PEOPLE MY PARENTS HAVE DEEMED "FRIENDS"

waiting patiently for your owl

J

aka the man you've insisted on calling "patches" (ridiculous)

His reply:

Hello PATCHES (as long as you insist on calling me 'moonchild' I will continue calling you patches)

Old people are not boring. Albus Dumbledore is old. Minerva McGonagall is old. Horace Slughorn is old. None of them are boring. Although we have discovered this only because we have given them a chance. Perhaps if you do the same for your parents' friends, you might find them enjoyable...

Now that that's cleared up….

I can not visit you over the holidays, as much as I want to. Visiting you last Christmas was, in the dullest sense of the word, magnificent. However, travelling with my condition is difficult, to say the least.

I hope you're not too put out. I'm sure Sirius and Peter will not remain grounded for the remainder of the holiday.

Speaking of, say hello to Sirius for me if you hear from him.

Give my best to your mum and dad.

-Remus Lupin

Aka I refuse to call myself that outrageous name.

The second came barely an hour later:

REMUS LUPIN YOU SON OF A BANSHEE

what is it with old people that makes you so obsessed with them? is it their wrinkly skin or their greying hair? or perhaps it is because they always smell like soap? i will never understand.

FOR MERLIN'S SAKE you can change here! i don't know if you remember or not from you last "magnificent" visit, but we have a huge garden and behind that theres trees and behind that theres a river and behind that theres more trees that go on for miles and miles and miles and miles before you would ever reach any signs of human life. by god man pull yourself together and get your ass down here.

i reckon pickles and cottontail will not be allowed to visit me even if they do get off grounding

see you soon MOONCHILD

J

He had actually asked his parents if he could go after he received this, but he was reminded that werewolves can run long distances and that he needed his potions to help ease the pain. He shuddered to think of what it would be like without them, so he replied:

Patches,

I realised this might be difficult for you to accept but… you are the one with the bunny costume, not Peter. While Peter Cottontail may share the same name as our Peter, the fact still remains that you are the rabbit - not Peter Pettigrew.

Also wasn't it your family who wrote the book? Adopting the nickname would show that you have pride in who you are and who your family is. Or are you not proud to be a Potter? Your father will be so disappointed.

Hoping that you'll come to your senses,

Remus Lupin

P.S. James Potter, you almost used a swear! What would your mother think? -R.L.

He couldn't even fathom what James's reply would be. He paced the floor of his bedroom, hoping to calm his nerves, expecting the next letter to come as fast as the last one did. However, it did not. He waited three days for James's reply.

remus fucking lupin

if you do not get down here i will bring the wrath of the potters down on you. bunny costumes are only the beginning moonchild. i will come down to your place, kidnap your entire family, and drag you to the WORLD CUP!

yup the world cup moonchild. do you really wanna miss out on that?

its going to be legendary. just imagine, for generations to come they are going to be talking about this event. what are we going to tell our grandchildren?

the year was 1974. it was the 417th edition. syria vs madagascar. directed by one of the greatest chasers in quidditch history ROYSTON IDLEWIND! PLAYED IN FUCKING FRANCE! AND REMUS 'MOONCHILD' LUPIN WAS STUPIDLY ABSENT BECAUSE HE WAS STUPID WHEN IT CAME TO HIS STUPID PROBLEM! honestly you are a shame to grandfathers everywhere. if i were your grandchild i would slap you. i hope that, right now, you can feel the burn of every slap your 2 dozen grandchildren are going to give you.

seriously. free tickets to a once in a life time event. a trip to france with the one and only JAMES POTTER! you get to hang out with james potter in france. im just trying to save you from a life time of regret.

which is why i am politely suggesting that you get your fucking ass to my fucking house, as soon as fucking possible! we already have the guest rooms ready for you and your dear mum and dad.

are you happy now i swore? legitly. and multiple times. im just glad pickles not here to see this. i am disgusted with myself

no, my family did not write that book. it was a muggle by the same name. the reason why were not in the 'sacred 28' is because too many muggles share our name.

we call 'peter' cottontail, because is birth name is peter and (mostly) because it annoys him. whoopdedoo, we've established that we all have nicknames that we hate.

james potter, as if you didn't know

Remus found himself shaking with laughter at this letter. He showed it to his mother who, despite only telling Remus not to copy his friend's language nor encourage such behaviour, decided to talk to her husband about the possibility of her son accompanying his friend. Remus did not know this, so his response was:

James fucking 'Patches' Potter

2 dozen grandchildren? REALLY? You expect ME to have 24 grandchildren? That is even more ridiculous than 'moonchild.' Congratulation you have officially lost your mind.

-Remus Lupin

P.S. What. The. Hell. is 'whoopdeedoo' doing in YOUR vocabulary? I was under the impression that you were the cool one. I guess that title will have to go to someone else. -R.L.

He wasn't expecting an answer. He certainly wasn't expecting a Howler, but that is what he got.

REMUS MOONCHILD LUPIN

I ONLY HAVE SO MUCH PATIENCE! YOU EITHER TELL ME THAT YOU'RE GOING IN YOUR NEXT LETTER OR I WILL BE AT YOUR DOOR TOMORROW EVENING TO KIDNAP EVERY SINGLE LUPIN I LAY EYES ON. I DON'T CARE HOW BADASS YOUR DAD'S REPUTATION IS! I WILL TAKE YOU ALL KICKING AND SCREAMING!

Hey Mr and Mrs Lupin, hope you're both doing great. Mum sends her love and Dad says hi. I'll see the three of you soon. Have a nice night…

This is James Potter by the way.

He was so distracted by his own embarrassment and his parent's laughter that he almost didn't notice the second letter that came with the Howler.

i expect nothing less than 24 great- nephews from you. If you fail to deliver i will make the rest of your life hell. so you better get started.

and sod off, im still cool!

Once Hope and Lyall Lupin settled their laughter, they told their son that they decided that they were going to allow Remus to go, but, only after the full moon. Needless to say, Remus was excited.

James,

(He decided to start off peacefully. Leave the exciting news for the end.)

The Howler was not necessary. You nearly gave my mother a heart attack. She's a muggle you know!

24 grandchildren are, by far, too many. Sorry to disappoint.

I'm afraid that once it get's out that you used the word 'whoopdeedoo' you will no longer be cool. I wouldn't be surprised if it brought you down to Snape's level on the social scale.

My father lives up to every word of his 'badass' reputation and I'm afraid that a simple third year (or should I say fourth year?) would not pose any threat to him. Yes, even the great James Potter. He is that much of a badass.

Luckily for you, my father is a reasonable man. He has granted me permission (probably to save your ruddy ass) to go with you to France to see the World Cup. I'll be at your house around mid-August. About the 17th should do? Unless, of course, it's inconvenient for your parents then another date can be scheduled.

Looking forward to seeing you

Remus

It was said, that in the summer of 1974, James Potter's screams of delight could be heard throughout the UK. It may seem by that statement, that no one could be happier at that moment than James Potter, but it wasn't true. Remus Lupin was much happier. He felt so happy, he could have possibly burst. A smile did not leave his face for what remained of his time at his parents house. Even as the full moon approached, though it was faded, a smile still played on his lips. He was, finally, going to be able to do something like a normal boy. He knew that while in France, he wouldn't have to worry about the moon, or potions, or moving, or unexplained absences. He wouldn't have to see the strain all of this put on his parents. Starting on the 17th of August, Remus Lupin was a normal boy wizard, going to see a quidditch game with his best friend.


	3. Peter

Peter Pettigrew is a wizard of a muggle family. He was just the right height for his age, though he was a little pudgy. He received averaged markings in school and was not particularly remarkable in any way. This could not be said for his siblings. His eldest brother, Adam, won the nation's science fair when he was only 11. Adam is currently going to school, with a full scholarship, to become a chemist. His sister, Rachel, just graduated at the top of her class and was offered a position on a professional women's football team. His younger brother, Zach, is 9 and just won the school spelling bee. While Peter brought home a resounding 43 detentions for several accounts of destroying school property, using magic on his peers, causing chaos in the Great Hall, and setting off fireworks in the middle of the night. Their mother, Ms Caroline Harper has not stopped cleaning since Peter got home. Peter was too nervous to wake her out of her trance.

"She's been muttering about arson since she started on the oven," Peter told Adam the first day he got back from university.

"Well, Pete, I think it's safe to say you're grounded," was his only words of solace before he shut the door of his bedroom. Rachel only made the problem worse. She kept tracking in mud or leaving her sports gear in inconvenient places. Zach tried to help by doing the dinner dishes but only succeeded in splashing dish water all over the freshly cleaned floors. The Pettigrew children quickly realised that there was nothing they could do to help their mother out of this state, so Zach stayed outside, riding his bike with the neighbour boys, Rachel stayed out late "practising" with her new team, and Adam stayed locked in his room "studying." Peter, knowing that it was his fault, tried to help his mother all while staying out of her way. While Ms Harper reorganised the kitchen pantry Peter worked in the garden and was especially careful not to use magic, terrified to imagine what a letter from the ministry would do to his mother.

He was just repainting their picket fence when Peter had an idea. A risky but brilliant idea. Ms Harper had a brother who was particularly good at distracting her. All it took was a phone call. Peter carefully slipped through the sliding glass door, dialled the number, wincing when his finger hit the metal piece a little too hard, and ran back outside, stretching the coiled cable as far as it would go so that no one could hear their conversation. He sucked on his bleeding finger, waiting for his uncle to pick up.

"You have reached the Simmering Gay Phone Sex call centre, which one of our boys do you want today?" came a sultry voice from the speaker.

"Uh... Uncle Alex?" Peter asked, slightly panicked. It sounded like his uncle, but if it wasn't….

"Oh, hey, kid. How's it hangin'? Wait, which one is this?" Uncle Alex asked and Peter couldn't help but laugh.

"Are you really running a phone sex line?" Peter laughed.

"Nah, that's just to keep the undesirables away," Alex chuckled, "so what's the deal kiddo?"

"Er… well, it's mum. She's upset, 'cause dad… and me, sort of. Point is she's been cleaning, non-stop since I got home. Seriously, I don't think she sleeps," Peter spoke and chewed his lip, waiting for his uncle's reaction.

"So Car's finally gone round the bend, huh?" Alex answered.

"Yeah, I guess. We've been trying to make it better but… nothing's worked. And you always know how to pull her out of this…." Peter trailed off, hoping to sound desperate enough for his uncle's help.

"Kid, I've got a lot of things going on here," Alex said, sounding apologetic. "Just try talking to her, a bit."

"Yeah, I guess. We just kinda needed help, but we'll figure it out if you're really that busy," Peter answered as if he had lost all hope. He heard his uncle heave a great sigh and there was a jumble of noise before his voice came again.

"Alright kid, you got me. I'm coming. But, warn your mum first, God," his uncle groaned. Peter grinned and silently congratulated himself.

"Thank you Uncle Alex. This is why you are my favourite uncle," Peter said sincerely.

"I'm your only uncle, kid. Now shut up and hang up the phone."

"Kay!" Peter ran back inside, placed the phone back on its switch hook, then raced back outside. He was trying to think of some excuse for inviting his uncle over that would satisfy his mother when he looked toward the setting sun and he spotted a familiar black dot flying overhead, aiming for his bedroom window. It was like James Potter had a sixth sense about these things. Peter quickly packed away his supplies in their shed, carefully slid back through the sliding glass door, and quietly ran up to his bedroom.

James's owl, Archimedes, was waiting for him on his desk, looking haughtily irritated about having to wait for him. Peter didn't have an owl because his mother believed them to be messy and noisy creatures, so James made his owl stay until Peter sent him off with his response. Peter opened the letter and groaned instantly, for it was addressed to,

Cottontail,

i realise your grounded, mate, but you've got to get out of it. there is an incredibly important event coming up. maybe youve heard of it? its called the Quidditch World Cup, and now even Moonchild's going so if you dont go you will officially be the worst friend in the history of friendship. Pickles is already going… hopefully, he said his parents already got him tickets at christmas. so if you don't come it'll just be me and moonchild in france occasionally seeing pickles and having a grand old time without you. And don't judge me for saying "grand old time", you should see my house right now. its like a nursing home. just the other day i called someone "the bees knees" honestly if you don't come i think ill go barking mad. SEE I JUST SAID BARKING MAD!

THATS IT! if you don't if you don't come then ill come to you. ill bring moonchild and together we can explain that we live in a blood obsessed society that hates muggleborns and that is why you got all those detentions. james potter to the rescue!

see you soon,

J aka Patches (even though its an incredibly stupid name invented to shame me in a time of distress. I COULD HAVE LOST MY HAIR! i would have looked as stupid as malfoy.)

P.S have you heard from Pickles lately? Moonchild hasn't and its not like him to ignore my letters for so long. even the mirrors aren't working. i should try to floo into his bedroom? J.P.

Peter, laughing at James's newly developed jargon, prepared to write his reply, quickening his pace as Archimedes impatiently ruffled his feathers.

Patches

You call me Cottontail just because my names is Peter (nevermind the fact that you are the actual bunny) you have no right to complain about Patches.

No I haven't heard from Pickles. I don't think you should floo to his house, though. His parents sound absolutely terrifying. I have a plan to get off grounding, but it'll take time. My uncle's coming into town soon and my mother usually forgets about all her problems with me while he's here. (He's very unemployed which my mother has a problem with.) The only problem is, she doesn't know he's coming. I invited him earlier today without her knowing, so if your brilliant mind can come up with an excuse in the next 24 hours I'd love to hear it. If the plan works, I'll help you find some way to contact Pickles when I get to yours.

Of course I know what the Quidditch World Cup is! I'm a muggle born, not an infant. And I am a good friend. I got punched in the face for you three last year! My nose was broken.

In the meantime, I hope you have a grand old time with the elderly and that you don't go barking mad. Eventually I'm sure you'll find that they are the bees knees. They were young once too, weren't they?

How's my cat? Hope he's not too much trouble.

Give my best to Moonchild.

Peter aka nickname pending because Cottontail doesn't fit.

P.S. I'm sure Pickles is fine. His parents are probably just stopping him from getting your letter's cause they don't "approve" of you. Didn't he say that they'd never actually hurt him? And he promised he'd tell you if they did and he's got that thing about promises. -P.P.

Peter, feeling confident that Sirius was actually okay, sent Archimedes off with his letter dangling in his talons.

Uncle Alex showed up the next day at dinner time, and much to Peter's pleasure and his mother's dismay, wearing a shirt that said POSTER BOY FOR AIDS in bright bold letters. James had yet to get back to him so he simply told his mother, as he watched his uncle's car pull into their driveway, that Alex had called the day before and Peter had invited him over. Zach came zooming in on his bike having recognised his car with a giant grin on his face.

" How's it going Pettigrews!" Alex called after he had thrown open the front door with his arm slung over Zach's shoulders. "And Ms Harper, of course!" Alex added seeing his sister's glare.

"Uncle Alex!" Adam shouted from the hall. He came running into the room to give his uncle a hug, still in his pyjamas looking as if he had slept for three solid days.

"Adam, have you been sleeping all day!" Ms Harper asked in an incredulous tone. Adam shrugged, not looking at all concerned about his mother's opinion. "Just go get dressed," Ms Harper sighed, "Alex, next time you'd visit I'd like a bit of a warning." Ms Harper turned on her heels and walked off back to the kitchen. Alex stared directly at Peter who smiled apologetically back at him.

"The house looks amazing, sis! Don't tell me you did this all for me?" Alex drawled, following his sister with Zach skipping behind him, grinning excitedly.

"Yes, well, you could have a nice house too if you bothered-"

"Oh, Caroline, don't start," said Alex firmly as he took a seat at the dining room table. Ms Harper didn't bother finishing her sentence. She stirred her boiling pot staring through the steam at Alex's shirt. Alex seemed quite at ease leaning with one arm thrown over the back of his chair, smiling casually at his sister.

"Uncle Alex guess what!" Zach bounced on his feet, pulling at the sleeve of Alex's coat. Alex directed his full attention to his youngest nephew, his face brightening in response to his excitement. "Mark Fawley ate a worm today, down by the creek and Corner caught a toad and said he was gonna dissect it and put the intestines in his sister's cereal!"

"Zachariah Pettigrew!" Ms Harper shouted. Zach jumped in response and turned apprehensively to his mother. "If that's the kind of boys you're hanging out with I'll take away your bike, you hear me?" Zach vigorously nodded, wide-eyed. Alex hid his smirk by scratching his bearded face. Peter shook with silent laughter. "Tell him about the spelling bee or something. I'll hear no more of worms and toads."

"A spelling bee?" Alex asked turning his raised eyebrows back to Zach.

"Oh, yeah. At school. I entered and won," Zach shrugged, finally taking a seat between Peter and Alex.

"Car, why didn't you tell me you were raising a genius?" Alex accused, making Zach smirk and Peter roll his eyes.

"It was just the school," Zach said, though his eyes sparked with pride.

"Still you've got to be damn good at spelling. Spell - uh - anal," Alex said, grinning at his sister who scowled back.

"A-N-A-L easy." Zach rolled his eyes.

"Okay, Mr Smarty Pants. How about… hypersensitive," said Alex, leaning forward in his chair toward Zach. Ms Harper cleared her throat.

"Hypersensitive," Zach whispered to himself before beginning to spell, unaware of his mother's growing irritation. Peter, however, was acutely aware of it. His eyes shifted wildly between his mother and his uncle, focusing on his mother's heavy breathing over the sound of Zach's spelling.

"Amazing!" Alex declared, clapping his hands. "I think you might be a prodigy! I didn't know how to spell that word until I was 16!"

"You did very well Zach. Why don't you ride down to the football field and tell your sister it's time to eat?" Ms Harper requested, chopping up her leafy garnish. Zach jumped up and ran out the door. Peter waited silently for something to happen. Alex fidgeted with the length of his sleeves. Ms Harper's knife chopped on the cutting board a bit more aggressively than what was necessary. "Peter will you get your brother?" she asked suddenly.

"ADAM! Time to eat!" Peter hollered.

"That's not what I meant! I could have done that," scolded Ms Harper.

"Sorry, Mum," Peter muttered, picking at the hairs on the back of his neck. Alex cleared his throat.

"So, Pete, how's school? Win any spelling bees?" asked Alex.

"Er no. We don't have spelling bees," Peter explained. He was not sure on how much Alex knew about his school.

"Peter prefers to blow up hallways," Ms Harper said, placing a stack of plates and bowls onto the table.

"I didn't actually blow up the corridor, that was Snape. I just happened to be there," argued Peter.

"That's not what your teacher said," accused Ms Harper with her hands on her hips.

"Who's this Snape character?" Alex asked, ignoring Ms Harper.

"Oh, just this kid in my year. My friends and I don't really get along with him," Peter answered.

"So you were fighting then?" Ms Harper asked, sounding hysterical.

"On account that he likes to blow up hallways?" Alex continued.

"On account that he's a giant greasy nosed git," Peter declared. Alex chuckled.

"Alex don't encourage him! He'll end up just like his father!" Ms Harper ordered.

"I don't think they send people to prison for calling someone a greasy nosed git, Caroline," Alex laughed as Peter smiled wofully.

"They do for blowing up hallways and setting off fireworks and heaven knows what else you've been doing! I don't like those friends of yours, Peter, I don't," Ms Harper ranted, throwing silverware onto the table.

"At least they're not putting frog intestines into people breakfast," Alex laughed causing Peter to chuckle. Ms Harper didn't respond but kept her lips tightly pressed together as if trying to keep the words in. "So you set off fireworks?" Alex inquired, realising his sister had no reply.

"It was just sort of an end of the year celebration," Peter shrugged, not wanting to direct his mother's attention back to him. Alex looked at him expectantly. "See, there's this lake in front of the school so we - my friends and I - took one of the boats and loaded it up with a bunch of fireworks. Sirius's family has a lot of connections, so he can get them pretty easily." Peter paused to look at his mother, to see if she was paying attention. She wasn't but still, he whispered, "some of them were illegal," before continuing. "Then we rowed out the middle of the lake, lit the fuse, swam to shore just in time to see the show. It was brilliant!"

"Awesome," Alex remarked, staring wistfully at the blank wall. He started when Ms Harper threw down a bowl of hot soup in front of him. "But your grades and things, they're okay?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm passing," Peter shrugged.

"Good. See Car, he's fine," Alex smiled, scooping up some hot soup and blowing on it.

"Yes, passing is just fine, Alex. Nevermind that he's involved in illegal and dangerous activities that could potentially cause harm to himself or someone else. You imagine what would have happened if one of those fireworks had gone astray and hit one of the other students? They could have died. Then we would have a murder trial on our hands!" Ms Harper remarked, resting her head in her hands.

"Not likely, Madam Pomfrey is a really good healer. Between her and Professor Slughorn no one is very likely to die accidently," Peter said earnestly. His mother glared at his nonchalant tone while Alex laughed into his soup. Peter licked his lips nervously wondering how to direct his mother's attention back to his uncle.

"Hey, mum!" Adam called from the living room. "There's some kids out there staring at our house."

"They're probably just lost, Adam! Come and eat some soup!" Ms Harper answered. Adam came scuffling into the kitchen.

"They're carrying brooms," Adam muttered, taking a seat in front of one of the unattended bowls of soup. Peter's eyes jumped to his mother's face. She gave him a questioning look before she walked to the door. Peter stared after her not sure of what to do.

"Does that mean… are they your friends?" Alex asked casually.

"Errr… probably," Peter answered, his eyes still glued to his mother's back. He could barely see her through the door, standing out of the front porch, yelling something into the street. Her shouting stopped but she didn't come back inside. She briefly turned around and then he saw James Potter striding through his front door with Remus Lupin in his wake. Peter stared open-mouthed at the scene in front of him.

"I'll just take your coats - er cloaks. And you can just put those brooms right there against the wall," Ms Harper told two very obvious young wizards. "Peter, these are your friends aren't they?" Ms Harper asked, looking at her son still staring open mouthed and frozen in his seat.

"What are you doing here?" he asked James.

"Peter," Ms Harper said sternly. "That's not a very nice welcome. Introduce us properly so we can sit down and eat."

"Er - well, this is James and Remus-"

"We prefer to be called Patches and Moonchild," James announced.

"He does, I don't," Remus countered.

"James and Remus," Peter said irritably, "And this is my mother, Ms Harper, my brother, Adam, and my uncle Alex." Peter pointed to everyone individually.

"You didn't mention you had a brother?" James smirked, strutting over to the indicated brother to shake his hand.

"I have two, Adam and Zach, and a sister, Rachel," Peter answered.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms Harper," Remus said, shaking her hand. "Sorry for intruding on your dinner."

"Oh, don't worry. We have plenty," Ms Harper said, guiding him into the dining room. James was explaining the sneakoscope dangling from the waistband of his robes to the very attentive Alex and Adam.

"The cat's fine by the way," Remus told Peter.

"Cat?" Ms Harper asked, in sudden alarm.

"Pete adopted a stray cat, sometime after Christmas. Practically brought it back to life," James explained. Ms Harper's sharp eyes fell on her son.

"But James agreed to take it home for the holidays once Peter explained that you were allergic," Remus added, catching Ms Harper's glare. Her expression softened slightly as she prepared bowls of soup for James and Remus.

"That's actually why we came here," James announced.

"No it isn't," Remus said firmly.

"Well, not the cat. My house, Merlin. Anyway, I wanted to personally invite Peter to spend the rest of the summer holidays with me, Remus, and my family. We're attending… a sporting event. It's rather important to our … community," James continued.

"It's kind of like Wimbledon, Mum," Peter explained.

"Exactly," Remus agreed.

"Yes, and my parents have extra tickets so they allowed me to invite my closest friends to come with," James finished. Peter looked expectantly up at his mother, keeping his fingers crossed under the table.

"Peter seems to get into an awful lot of trouble with you two," Ms Harper answered, placing the hot bowls in front of the boys.

"At school, yes. And I'm sorry about that, but this is different my parents will be there," James protested over Remus's thanks.

"No offence Remus-"

"James."

"Sorry, James. But I don't know your parents, and I'm sure they're nice people, but-"

"You can't be sure that they'll keep Peter safe," James finished Ms Harper's sentence who looked both amused and surprised despite the interruption. "See, the only reason Peter gets into so much trouble at school is - well maybe not the only reason, but it's the main one - our world is a bit prejudice against people like Peter, and unfortunately people like you."

"People like me?" Ms Harper asked, glancing up at her brother. Alex only raised his eyebrow and slurped the rest of his soup, his eyes never leaving James's face.

"Yes, non-magic people," James smiled, sympathetically. "And because Peter was born in this family instead of one like mine, he gets… um…"

"Bullied," Peter offered. Ms Harper flashed wide concerned eyes to her son's face.

Why didn't you mention this before?" Ms Harper demanded.

"Didn't want to worry you," answered Peter, looking sadly into his soup.

"And you shouldn't worry. Remus, Sirius, and I will always have his back. And Dumbledore - the headmaster - won't stand for any of that nonsense. Neither will the deputy headmistress. So really Peter is very well protected," James added quickly.

"Of course there are occasions when the professors aren't around and we have to defend ourselves, that is why we have those detentions," Remus said.

"For the most part," Peter said, regretting telling his fireworks tale.

"Yes, I suppose that fireworks show wasn't self-defence," Ms Harper challenged.

"We did that to show house unity. It was all the headmaster's idea," James answered.

"If it was the headmaster's idea then why did you get in trouble?" Ms Harper asked.

"Ms Harper, James means that the headmaster pointed out to us - to the whole school that in times like these - when muggle borns are being actively discriminated against the school needs to show loyalty to all fellow students and encouraged us to show that in any way we can think of. We admit we got a bit over excited with the fireworks show. Thankfully no one got hurt. And I can promise you - we all can promise you that we won't be using explosives to show our love for our fellow classmates," Remus said, in a calming voice James and Peter only heard when Remus found himself in a sticky situation which seemed to be coming up a bit more in the months since their Christmas holiday. Peter smiled, knowing the effect Remus usually had on authority. Ms Harper took in a deep breath and thought over what had just been revealed. There was a lengthy silence which, as usual, James interrupted.

"I suppose I could fly you to my place if you really want to meet my parents," James offered, chuckling weakly. Peter hid a grin in his napkin, imagining his mother on a broom.

"No, no that won't be necessary," Ms Harper waved him off quickly.

"Oh, let him go, Caroline!" Alex shouted. "He's only a boy! If you only knew the kind of trouble I got into at school."

"Yes, and look where you are now," Ms Harper said sharply.

"Fine. But what about Adam? You're telling me that Adam never got into any trouble in school?" Alex challenged. Adam stared guiltily down into his now lukewarm soup.

"Nothing like this," Ms Harper argued in a stern tone.

"I promise Mum, no more arson! No fire or heat! I won't even touch a tea!" Peter begged.

"Well, you're going to have a jolly good time in Potions," James laughed.

"James, they didn't even say that in the twenties!" Remus exclaimed, exasperated.

"I'm pretty sure that phrase is older than the twenties," James argued.

"Exactly! What-" Remus started but Peter cleared his throat silencing him. Everyone seemed to have their eyes on Ms Harper waiting for her reply. Ms Harper ignored them as she sipped at her soup with a very thoughtful expression on her face. This time the silence was not interrupted by James but by Rachel and Zach bursting through the door, red in the face and out of breath.

"Did you run all the way here?" Peter asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, its called exercise, maybe you should try it," Rachel said, leaving Zach panting against the wall.

"Had to go up a hill," Zach said in between gulps of breath.

"What are you lot doing? And who's this?" Rachel asked, helping herself to dinner.

"And why are you wearing dresses?" Zach asked.

"They're not- they're not dresses!" James said.

"They do kind of look like dresses James," Remus admitted.

"You know those weird robes I've got to wear for school Zach?" Peter asked Zach, nodded, resting his hot head on the cool table. "These are like those, but for every day. It's what normal wizards wear."

"Wizards who live in wizard society," James corrected, "I knew we should have changed into muggle clothes."

"It's not my fault you got all… hyper," Remus argued.

"So you just came by to visit Peter?" Rachel asked, her mouth full of salad.

"Actually, they came to take Peter to James house for the rest of the summer," Ms Harper answered.

"Really?!" Peter jumped up, not caring that his soup had sloshed onto the table.

"Yes, really. But I want letters, weekly. And I will be coming to see you at Kings Cross, hopefully, to meet your parents, James." Ms Harper answered.

"Thanks, Mum!" Peter grinned, "I'm gonna go pack!" Peter dashed off up the stairs, Remus and James following him.


	4. James

Windsor, 1974

Under usual circumstances James would have spent his summer with his dad in their shed 'inventing' things, playing football with the muggle boys in the neighborhood, trying to get his friends to visit so he could actually practice for quidditch, and laughing at his aunt Muriel whenever she fell asleep in the middle of her sentences. But this summer was not the usual circumstance. It was the summer of the 417th Quidditch World Cup. The Potters were usual spectators in sporting events and thoroughly enjoyed quidditch. They would always make an ordeal out of it. Mr and Mrs Potter would invite their old school friends and colleagues, most of them James only vaguely remembered. He did remember hearing stories about Dumbledore being a teacher instead of the Headmaster and McGonagall being a quidditch legend at one time (he was slightly disappointed to find out how strict she was.) So this summer instead of inventing things with his dad or playing with the muggle children he entertained his parents' friends, listening to the stories he heard a million times before and tried to come up with some clever response to their questions about what he wanted to do after he graduated from Hogwarts. He had no idea but he told Mrs Clemens that he wanted to be a quidditch player. She warned him that, as exciting as the job may be, it wouldn't last long, soon he would get old and wouldn't be able to play quidditch so he should think long term, not just what seemed most exciting. He told Mr Bones that he wanted to train dragons in Romania like his uncle but Mr Bones was courteous enough to remind him with a laugh that his uncle had died at a young age due to his profession. James did not understand how his parents could be friends with such dreary people. By the time Mr Forster had asked him what he wanted to do over dinner James was done with trying to humour them and decided to humour himself instead.

"Oh, I reckon by the time I graduate Mr Burkes will have died and Mr Borgin's will need a new partner. How do you think Borgin's and Potter's sounds?" *James returned, careful not to crack a smile. Mr Forster looked at him for a moment without blinking and James was quite sure he gave the poor man a heart attack but then Mr Forster gave a deep chuckle and returned to his meal. For the remainder of his stay, Mr Forster never said a word to James but kept a close eye on him ever since.

It was a relief when Remus finally showed up in mid-August. Mr Bones remembered working with Remus's father back in his ministry days and had many compliments to give him. Remus accepted them with grace, James, however, was growing irritated. Once Mrs Potter finally excused them James and Remus ran out to the shed. There they practised defensive spells from a book James had received for his birthday. They focused intently on the Patronus charm because Remus told James that his father often used the charm to convey messages to him and his mother when he had to work late. It proved difficult, especially when they had to keep it secret from James's parents (underage wizards were not allowed to do magic outside of school.) They bordered up the windows to keep the bright white light from alerting Mr Potter. By the time James brought Peter home Remus's Patronus moved from small white wisps to a large bulk that looked like it might have legs. A week before the World Cup Mrs Potter announced that they would be waking up early the next day to take a portkey into France. It was the only day the border would be open so it was of the utmost importance they didn't miss it. They spent that day playing quidditch, Peter and Remus against James, in the back garden instead.

rural France, 1974

The sky was a brilliant shade of aqua blue. White fluffy clouds spotted the sky. The sun was shining brightly overhead as the tavern's sign swayed in the light breeze. This was a summer in France.

It was the day before the World Cup and James Potter and two of his three best friends sat under a large umbrella listening to the tavern's sign swing on its hinges, Mr and Mrs Potter's friends laughing inside reliving their youth, passersby speaking in a strange tongue, their steps echoing down the cobbled street. They kept their eyes in opposite directions, watching for a family of four to suddenly show out of thin air. They had to show up here. It was the only magic lodgings in this part of the country. He bounced his knee and thrummed his fingers on the table while he scanned the scenery in front of him. He tried to ignore the hunger that was creeping through him (getting something to eat would mean he would have to leave and then he might miss him - this might be his only chance,) but the smell of freshly baked bread, melted cheese, and savory beef wafted down the street and tickled his nose.

"James," Peter interrupted his sudden surge of hunger, "are you sure he's coming?"

"He did say he was grounded?" Remus added, tentatively. James rolled his eyes, his chest tightened in extreme irritation. He had not been able to contact Sirius all summer, but he did say at the end of last year that he was sure to be grounded.

"He didn't say that! He said, at Christmas-"

"That his parents already had tickets," Remus repeated the words James had been saying all summer. "But James, a lot has happened since then, and his parents are really strict. Even if they did come, they're likely to leave him behind."

"If they show up without him, we'll floo to his house and bring him here." James crossed his arms and leant back into his chair. His tone was so defiantly determined that Remus fell silent.

"Could we at least get something to eat? We haven't ate since breakfast," Peter begged. James, his mouth watering due to the smell from the nearby restaurant, finally broke eye contact with the street lamp in front of him to look inside the tavern. His parents sat surrounded, by the previously declared "old people," drinking out of goblets and eating some sort of french cuisine.  
"Ask someone to bring out menus," James said. His eyes wandered back to the street lamp, combing through the sea of people, hoping to catch the sight of Sirius's back. They absolutely had to come here. James had a hard time imagining Mrs Black - or Sirius for that matter - sleeping in a tent however magically enhanced.

"I don't speak French, James." Peter sounded irritable, though he couldn't fathom why. He didn't really care anyway.

"Neither do I," James shrugged.

"I think menu is actually a french word. We'll see if we can get some appetisers while we're at it. Maybe James will come out of his mood if he eats something," Remus said, getting to his feet.

"You guys can't both go! What if I miss him, and they see me and leave immediately?" James demanded. Peter took an uneasy step back toward his chair but Remus was insistent.

"James, he's not coming," Remus told him, gently but firmly. He tugged on Peter's shirt sleeve then lead him inside, leaving James alone. James absolutely hated being alone - it was worse than silent moments. It was not long before he could feel a million eyes bearing in on him. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, checking his hair, then his glasses, adjusting his shirt and the bottom of his jeans. He zeroed in on a ladybug, inching its way up the pole of the umbrella.

"Stay close Sirius," ordered a proud rough voice that James only ever heard once so he could not place it.* By the sound of his friend's name, though, his head shot up and his eyes flew across the scene in front of him until they fell upon what he had been looking for.

The Blacks prowled down the street. Mrs Black watched him through blue narrow eyes. Her hat nearly fell off her head because her pointed chin (which seemed to be the only thing Sirius did not inherit from her) was held so high in the air. She held a mean looking cat, with a hole in its ear, cradled in her arms. She was very much younger than her husband. Mr Black kept his eyes on his son. His greying hair was still cut short but he had grown facial hair that was just as white as his curling and bushy eyebrows. Regulus looked around amazed at the sights in front of him, seemingly oblivious to anything else. Sirius walked with his usual saunter, having not yet noticed James. He moved closer to his father but that didn't seem to be quite enough for him. Mr Black used his long heavy black cane that glinted green in the sunlight to push his son in between him and his wife. Sirius winced but when his eyes finally fell on James the corners of his mouth turned up into a shadow of a smile if only for a moment.

"L'arriere de la Taverne de Lune,"* Sirius said, reading the sign over James's head. "We've never stayed here before. Why aren't we staying with the Lestranges?"

"Isn't that where Trixie is?"* Regulus asked, walking backwards so he could face his family and as a result, he ran into James's table. Mrs Black quickly grabbed him by the front of his robes with one of her hands and pushed him through the door. Sirius' eyes stared ahead of him, determined not to be caught looking.

"Nevermind that, just get inside," Mr Black ordered. James almost said something. He had cleared his throat, opened his mouth, his lungs full of air sufficient enough to fulfil his verbal abuse. If it hadn't been for the subtle pleading look Sirius sent him he would have. Mr Black gripped Sirius's arms, his knuckles shone white through the brown age spots. James clenched his jaw and gripped the table, coaxing himself to stand down. Within seconds Sirius was out of sight.

James's stomach had twisted itself into a knot. His head was spinning so fast he couldn't make out his own thoughts. His teeth were grinding together, but he barely noticed. Nothing had really happened. It was a relatively normal exchange for a magical family such as the Blacks. But James couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong. He only realised now that the feeling had originally popped up when he saw Sirius disappearing from the train station with Kreacher clutching his forearm. Maybe that's why he kept writing to Sirius even when he got no reply and why he kept the mirror well within sight in his bedroom even though all he ever saw in it was his own reflection.

"James!" Peter had come running out of the tavern, grinning. James jumped at the sound of his voice. "Sirius is here."

"Yeah, I know," James said and turned back to the street lamp. It seemed odd to look at it now.

"You all right? Did you talk to him?" Remus asked, setting down a basket full of puffs.

"No, he was with his parents. You know..." James shrugged and reached for one of the puffs. Remus and Peter accepted his casual tone with no question. They went into a lengthy tale about their interaction with the tavern's staff, informing him that in french the proper word for appetisers was "des aperitifs." The distraction, however dismal, was enough to bring James out of his panicked state. Peter had James laughing at his impression of the accents of the wait staff. After they ate James, Remus, and Peter wanted to have a look around the town now that they weren't so concerned for their friend. They would have invited Sirius but the Black's doors were marked by signs reading: "NE PAS DERANGER do not disturb"

It took some coaxing but Mrs Potter finally let James take his friends out shopping on their own, as long as he kept his sneakoscope with him, his wand ready, and he stayed in the touristy part of the town. So James, Remus, and Peter spent the rest of their day discussing the outcome of the next day's match (Remus was rooting for Madagascar but James had bet money on Syria and Peter (knowing how well James kept up with quidditch) wisely followed James) and dressing up mannequins in odd mix-matched outfits, much to the shop owners disapproval. The number of times James and his friends were swore at in French made him almost want to learn the language.

417th Quidditch World Cup, France, 1974

It was day two of the Quidditch World Cup and Syria and Madagascar were neck and neck with a startling 550 points on each side. Madagascar had one more foul than Syria but Syria's chaser had blood oozing from his ears. The seekers were at each other's throats, Madagascar would send Syria into a face splatting dive then Syria would send him into the goal post. It stopped being "just Quidditch" and became personal around when Syria was up 80 to 60. The crowd, the referee, and the commentator (Royston Idlewind) seemed to be growing irritated with the seeker's disregard to find the snitch and end the game. Syria's beater sent a bludger straight for Madagascar's seeker after he had tricked Syria once again into a headlong dive for the snitch that wasn't there. The referee took this opportunity to call a timeout for each of the teams to get their affairs in order. The Potter's and their friends used this time to stretch their legs. The elders decided to stay in their box but James, Remus, and Peter wanted to run freely. They dashed down the stairs, squeezed through groups of people, ran behind the stadiums, jumped over roots of trees and large rocks, and skidded to a stop in front of a river where Sirius was already waiting for them.

"Alright, mates?" Sirius nodded from where he sat, lounging on an overly large rock that James suspected he must have engorged.

"Where's Reggie," James asked between pants. Sirius had made it clear that while his parents were around he could not be seen anywhere without Regulus.

"He went off with Archer," Sirius said irritably.

"With Josie?"* Remus asked, with a tone of surprise.

"Yeah, they met at the tavern. Then they got into an argument and Archer ran off and Reg went after her. He's worse than James, honestly." Sirius shook his head laughing.

"Oi! Evans never ran away from me!" James argued.

"No, but she has made bats fly out of your nose," Peter laughed.

"That was one time! And I didn't entirely deserve it," James argued.

"What about when she and Nicnevin glued your hands to your broom?" smirked Remus.

"That was when we were friends! It was a friendly rebuttal to my putting itching powder in their robes while they were swimming in the Great Lake," James argued.

"No, that was in second year after you jinxed Snape's legs together," Sirius told him, "After the itching powder they transfigured your chow mein into worms."

"Chinese night!" James shuddered at the memory then laughed.

"I still can't get over when she called you a spaz!"

"And when she said that he's the reason that cereal goes soggy!"

"Alright, we get it James is terrible at talking to females." Sirius jumped down from his rock to stand next to James and Remus and Peter fell silent. James rested a grateful hand on Sirius back but he flinched and grimaced. It was only for a second but the three of them caught it and stared at him with various looks of surprise and concern. "What?" Sirius said, defensively.

"Could ask you the same thing, mate," James said, his brow frowned.

"It's not my fault you're such a giant oaf with heavy hands," Sirius scoffed.

"Sirius, you usually have a pretty high pain tolerance," Remus remarked.

"Got something you wanna tell us?" James asked, sternly. Sirius crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

"Chill out! I'm just a little sore, I've been practising for quidditch all summer. Thought you'd like to have a little competition come tryouts, mate," Sirius smirked.

"You're actually trying out for quidditch?" James laughed. "You'd think he'd try for prefect next!" Sirius let out an echoing barking laugh that helped his other friends relax. "Don't get ahead of yourself, mate."

While they walked along the river's edge looking for Peter, they discussed the ongoing match. Sirius was rooting for Madagascar, mostly to argue with James, and James knew this but still engaged. They found Regulus fighting with Josie, who was red in the face and a head taller than the second year, still, Regulus held his ground.

"It makes sense, though-"

"No, it doesn't!"

"But it does! Look, if you have a dog and he's a mix between a Mastiff and a …. I don't know - a Terrier, and then you have a pure blooded Mastiff, the pure blood would be stronger."

"Oh, dear GOd!" Sirius groaned loudly, interrupting his brother's argument. Regulus started and stared at his brother. Josie scoffed and took a step back. "Josie, just get out of here. Reg, you're not going to change anyone's opinions by comparing them to dogs."

"I don't know, he changed my opinion," James shrugged.

"James-"

"I used to think he was okay - bit of a prat but still okay. Now I kinda just want to hex his face off," James said, slipping his wand out from his pocket. Remus, seeing this, took hold of James's arm. Sirius stepped between him and Regulus and Peter reached out for Josie's hand and pulled her out of the mess.

"James," Sirius said sternly.

"No, Sirius, you heard the way he was talking," James said, trying to pull his arm out of Remus's grip. Remus tightened his hold and hissed in his ear, "this is not going to do anything but hurt Sirius." James was still tense and ready for a fight but he relaxed his hand, letting his wand hang loose. The last thing he wanted was to get Sirius into more trouble.

"James, he's still my brother," Sirius said. "And he would never hurt Josie, right Reg?" Regulus shook his head vigorously looking scared and confused. The thought that Josie might have gotten hurt never crossed James's mind, he was more concerned with the fact that Regulus stood before them, bold as brass, spewing out pureblood - Death Eater - mania.

"Sorry if I scared you, Josie," Regulus said in a soft voice. He looked Josie in the eye and gave her a half smile.

"Whatever Black, just piss off. And Sirius, if you share your brother's opinions you can piss off too!" Josie snarled, her voice cracking before she marched out of the forest back to the stadium. A heavy silence fell over the group. James kept his eyes on Regulus who was watching as Josie disappeared among the trees confusion still marking his face.

"Regulus." Remus's voice broke the silence, sounding careful - like he was weighing every word he spoke. "The things that you said, about purebloods being stronger - whether it's true or not - the Death Eater's, the witches and wizards working for you-know-who … they believe the same things, but they use their beliefs to hurt people, people like Josie. That's why James and Sirius got mad."

"I got mad cause it's not true!" James started, pointing his wand at Regulus. James was not intending to fire anything off but Regulus jumped out of the way and held his wand up defensively. "And people like this git-"

"James!" Remus warned, pulling at the back of his robes. James let his wand fall limp again but this time he held eye contact with Regulus.

"The Death Eaters are getting worse. A few weeks ago they killed a bunch of people right out in public. Just understand that you can't go around spewing bull shit without consequences anymore," Sirius said bitterly. "We've got to get back or mother will worry." Sirius turned to leave not looking back at any of them. Regulus gave an almost apologetic smile to the three of them before following his brother.

"Lupin, I realise that I'm a handsome bloke, but if you could let go of my hand now…." James joked.

"Sorry!" Remus said, releasing James's wrist. James turned away from Sirius and Regulus's receding backs.

"Was that true what Sirius said, that people died?" Peter asked, running to catch up with them.

"Merlin, you've really got to start reading the paper!" James chuckled. James kept his tone light and his expression easy as they headed back to their box. Even as the game started again his mind was on other things. It felt as though so much had happened and yet as if nothing had happened. He knew - somehow - that Regulus would end up more like his family than Sirius had dared to hope against. And somehow he knew that Sirius would come back from this summer acting strangely. Sirius never wanted to join the quidditch team before - even when James suggested it last year he laughed at the idea. His thoughts were finally penetrated by Idlewind announcing "SYRIA WINS!" from the top box. James watched the screen as it showed their seeker holding up a fist in the air, two thin wings fluttered in the crack of his fingers. His nose was swollen and bleeding and he had a black eye but his face was twisted into a victorious smile. Peter let out a loud whistle and Remus hollered in appreciation as the team flew by on their brooms.


End file.
